Summary: At the right angle, in a line of sight, one might wonder why he never stopped staring at her for so much as a second.
Theme: 066. The Pounding Of A Heart
Dedication: Colorless Wind, thank you.
Disclaimer: If I owned Full Metal Alchemist, you just lost the game. Hate me yet?
Angles
066. The Pounding Of A Heart
The sky is this shade of grey.
Roy had been smoking cigarettes for the better part of his twenty four hours, and the voices around him have been slurred and distant because they have both been tucking their words behind their teeth to reserve only the best for each other. Riza has a stiff smile because she has been wearing it dully her entire life, and he cannot hold it up anymore with what little he can offer her.
Her arm is this shade of purple.
She is the sort of woman who turns on the radio at night and would sing along if she has a half-decent voice. Instead she hums ever so quietly, only just under her breath so he can barely hear it, and thinks the world is better when it is not fully written out in lines for people to glance in order to change what they are. He swears the only time he has seen Scar look so calm was when he twisted her arm and pulled her away from him, the edge of his tongue pushing past the barriers they had created to spill out monster.
His skin is this shade of white.
He has icy coloured skin, and something about the way he raises his hands that are strong enough to make any woman wonder makes her want to be just like him and taste such beauty. Sometimes, she used to look at him for too long, and in return for not noticing he made her feel. She can feel the heat in his heart when he presses her against his broad chest, and when she feels it beating behind the ribcage bars she has to wonder if his blood is blue and cold to match.
Her heart is this shade of red. She supposes.
She is just counting the seconds between his breaths every time he makes her want to kiss him. Because he knows her heart better than her. He has always been just a lot more sharp than her, even if she likes to think she is a tiny bit quicker sometimes. See, she was always certain he was that he would be the one to tell her everything. Because Roy is always right. He knows that hearts speak. Their voices are just muffled, a lot of the time. Then sometimes after she is pressed against him he slips against her chest instead and listens, waiting for something although she does not know what. He laughs when she asks, saying he is waiting to hear her secrets. More than once, she is foolish enough to believe him.
But then sometimes can be all the time, and when he held her just like he used to between sand and sweaty palms her skin electrified her being. Then they are not just grey or purple or white or red or painted in shades of each other. All the time they are listening to the pounding of a heart in each other, and telling each other what is in between each unsteady sound and quiet smile.
"You love me."
He whispered once, telling her word for word what he told her was what her heart said. Her smile curved into a crescent, and she was running out of words to feed down his starving throat unless she untucked the lies from their bed just after they had curled into a ball upon her tongue and laid themselves to rest. Sometimes, she did not reply. Maybe just sometimes.
Most of the time, she wants it to be his shade of black.
In which Roy gains an extra heart. Because love is not always so easy to explain, and requited emotion is getting rare lately. Something should be done about that, one day. Maybe now.
Preview: Her quirk is being made without love.
Reviews are loved. :)